


Narcissus

by Molly_Ann



Series: Crash And Merge [4]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU
Genre: Because Robin!Jason is funny and maybe a bit too horny over female supervillains, F/F, I Tried, If Nolanverse had Robins but then was somehow Arkham verse?, Implied Sexual Content, Inappropriate Humor, M/M, Plot, This took me three years to write
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-14
Updated: 2020-07-14
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:02:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25260565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Molly_Ann/pseuds/Molly_Ann
Summary: “That’s fucking hot!” Down his comms there’s an awed youthful voice, and after scanning the room to decipher who his bug picked up, Bruce realises who he’s actually hearing.“Language.”“Sorry, Bru – I mean, B? Can I call you B?”Jason is the little shit this story needed. Finally updated.
Relationships: Implied Joker/Bruce Wayne, Poison Ivy/Original Female Character
Series: Crash And Merge [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/305094
Kudos: 8





	Narcissus

**Author's Note:**

> This was made all over the course of three years, despite its shortness. I came back to it for the first time since 2017 last night and was bemused, and disappointed, to find out that my writing skill had not developed since. Of course it wouldn't, I barely write anymore. Looking to change that. Hope my former readers still find interest here, I'd thinking it's going to be a three-prat-er!!
> 
> Enjoy!

It takes a long time for Bruce to feel back on track after everything. The quick hook-up that revealed his identity to the whole of Gotham’s criminal underground. Dick running off with the titans. A sexual encounter with his nemesis. Harvey Dent in an institution outside Gotham, with, apparently, no intention of murder. Not anymore. It had been hell, and he’d been constantly in a state of paranoia about when said criminal underground were going to march to the manor like angry villagers with their fire and brimstone, pitchforks in hand.

After Harvey, however, there has been no contact. Any crime Batman or the GCPD has been fighting turns up with a cold trail – even if it’s a goon or a thug belonging to one of the elite, or a large-scale trafficking ring related to one of the big-time crime lords . Bruce thinks it possible that he scared them, for while the knowledge of both his personas makes him vulnerable, he also becomes more of an emotional and powerful threat. It’s entirely possible that Harvey willingly undergoing treatment intimidated half the Bat’s foes into hiding. It’s also potentially why both Batman and Bruce have had no contact with the Joker since that day. However all of these things seem entirely unlikely. In fact, it is more probable that they’re all just waiting for the dust to settle before moving in once again.

-

There is a good time for company, and there is also an incredibly bad one. Unfortunately, Gotham does not favour the prosperity of Bruce Wayne or Batman, so the city only awaits four weeks after Harvey Dent is settled into a facility in LA to hurl more inconveniences at the billionaire.

During patrol in crime alley one night, after aimlessly interrogating the last of Black Mask’s men, there materialises a noise behind Batman where the car is parked, ready for a quick exit. Batman nearly misses the sharp, clanking of heavy metal over his own gruff, frustrated sigh at getting nothing out of the thug, but re-focuses again. A sharp, youthful gasp. Batman whips around and immediately runs towards the car direction, just as a dark-haired head pops up over the hood-

Kid-

Tire iron.

He’s fast, but not fast enough. The kid drops the weapon and sprints the walkway, but not before Batman jumps the hood and is swift enough to slam the kid to the wall only feet away from the car’s rear. Fast, but not good enough. The kid struggles with him, attempts to hook him under the chin when Batman won’t let him go, but the gauntlet catches his fist and the kid is pinned under the bulk of the armour.

Bruce looks down at him, and almost feels like flipping the lenses up just so he can assure the child that he is man, and not an otherworldly threat like most think he is. Bruce looks down at him, and immediately regrets it. Dick. At least, it’s not, but there’s a hollowed-out pain inside him to think it. Thick, curling dark hair, eyes a warm blue. Warmer than his own. Grubby, thin but muscled. Dick – no.

“What were you doing to my car?” He rasps, and the kid’s shiver vibrates through him. The kid looks up defiantly, eyes a warmer blue again but with hot ferocity instead of tranquillity. The kid scowls again, struggling once more.

“Fuck off.” He snarls, nearly catching Bruce off guard with the harshness of the words, before Batman pins him harder by the wrists this time and leans over him, just enough.

“I said, what you were doing to my car.” When Batman repeats it, it’s not a question.

The kid gulps and stops struggling, the endorphins and adrenaline calming into fear. “Tires. I-They- I-sell…-” The kid stops talking and looks down weakly, kicking at the gravel. He’s been caught red-handed, but he isn’t scared of death. Bruce softens.

“Where are your parents, kid?” He says now, still in the Bat’s voice but calmer. Kinder.

It was quite obviously a mistake, for the kid surges up again, and gets pushed back to the wall for his efforts. “Fuck you.” He hisses through his teeth, and even when he realises that struggling is futile, he still seethes and glares in the Batman’s grip.

“Look, kid. I’m not going to hurt you.” Bruce says, and means it. “I keep people safe, I need to know if you’re going to be safe tonight.” Batman loosens his grip and the kid goes into a guarded stance, ready yet unpractised and without finesse. He takes a step back, but is close enough so that if the kid made another run for it, he could still catch him within three yards.

“I take care of myself.” The kid says, casually, like it means nothing and everything all at once. Bruce is reminded very briefly of Selina, and how she used to be when he first met her – all jagged and rough around the edges, arrogant and assertive. Self-assured. Too self-assured. “Dad’s dead. Mom can’t even help herself, let alone me.” The kid straightens, relaxing a little when the Bat makes no sudden moves to hurt or restrain him, even as his voice gets sharper and angrier. “The fucks it to you?”

“What’s your name?” Batman speaks, ignoring the kid’s obtrusiveness.

“Jason. Todd.” He grinds out. “Like I said, what the-”

Bruce looks at the kid once again, observes him carefully without showing it. Then interrupts him. “To keep you safe, I have three options.” He never lets the voice back once. “One, I’ll take you back to your mom and you stay.” The kid snarls. “Two. I take you to the GCPD and they find a home for you.” The kid opens his mouth to argue, but Batman’s next sentence shuts him the hell up.

“Or Three. You come home with me.” The kid- Jason- splutters and blushes. The Batman is staring judgmentally down upon Bruce Wayne with something akin to pure rage. Who is internally grinning like a lottery winner.

-

It’s once again a dark night in Gotham when something significant happens on patrol. The summer heat is sweltering, so much so that it’s even warm in the early hours. Gotham is alive and teeming with restless rage - the summer turns everyone stir-crazy - and the city is illuminated in all its glory, quite possibly to keep its occupants awake until sunrise.

Usually, even in Gotham, everything the gnarly side of illegal stays in the shadows. On nights like this, the corruption and evil flourishes under the lights of casinos and tap-houses, fluorescents and Batman’s very own illuminated signal. Batman doesn’t know why – only knows that it angers him greatly. Every time he is able to stop a single crime, there’s always more under another light, in another part of the city, that he will be too late for. And even worse, with it all out in the open, to be seen by all… He knows that he was too late, knows it’s his fault.

Tonight – there’s a particular safe-house in the East End, and Batman is perched on a roof adjacent to it. The building is eleven stories, plus a basement level – the remains of what used to be fine rental apartments. Now, its public property. The building is still bright with fractured lettering along the outer walls top floor – what used to say ‘Toreador’ now only says ‘Red’ in an obnoxious spread of vermilion LED’s.

Batman silently curses himself for playing the waiting game outside of a building like this. There are lives at stake, and here he is, inactive. But of course, Bruce calms the fire inside him.  _ There may be more deaths if I let this go _ . Batman attaches a pair of binocular goggles to look closer inside the building. At the desk, centre stage, is the Penguin, idly stubbing out a cigar in a glass ashtray. He’s accompanied by two guards either side of him, who keep their eyes towards a doorway. Both are armed to the teeth.

Batman wouldn’t have found this behaviour particularly peculiar if he didn’t spot Harley Quinn skipping into the building moments before, wearing nothing but her signature colours’ leotard, and mismatched kitten heels, the blood-stained rucksack on her back looking larger than herself. He continues pondering what business she’d have with the penguin, until the door swings open, and all questions answer themselves.

In piles too many familiar faces. First, the Riddler. Following him is Black Mask, Scarecrow, and a Riddler-bot that can’t decide if it’s running towards its master, or attacking the hulking figure behind it – which, when the head ducks under the doorframe- Batman recognises him as Bane. They cram in a half-horseshoe around the desk, the bot barely escaping with its wires intact. Nygma pulls a disdainful face at a reclining Bane, and calls the bot back to him with a command. Just as Bane plants himself in the armchair, closest to an open window, the door swings open again.

Asphixia peeps her head around, and steps in, giggling nervously. Behind her, wrapped possessively around her waist with arms and vines, steps in Ivy. The two seem ignorant of the current situation, and move to the corner beside Bane. Last to arrive – Harley skipping in the same way she entered the building, followed by a Joker who looks more irritated than amused. He snaps something at her, and she frowns, stops skipping, and moves back to the doorframe to join him.

In the corner, Batman notices Ivy and Asphyxia both on their knees, and while he should be worried about Ivy anywhere near plants, she simply grows the potted daffodils out into long sprouts of flowers to braid into Asphixia’s hair. It’s almost endearing.

“That’s fucking hot!” Down his comms there’s an awed youthful voice, and after scanning the room to decipher who his bug picked up, Bruce realises who he’s actually hearing.

“Language.”

“Sorry, Bru – I mean, B? Can I call you B?” Jason gushes. Batman utters a grunt of disapproval at the uninvited guest on his communicator. “The babe in purple looks like she’s totally getting off on it. Can you… maybe, zoom in a little?” And he actually sounds hopeful. Bruce would have laughed, and maybe visualised himself ruffling the teenager’s hair, had he not been on patrol.

“What are you doing down there.” He grits out, voice somewhere between Bruce and Batman. There’s a pause and a slight gasp, and Bruce looks away deliberately from where Asphyxia is fellating one of Ivy’s vines, just so the boy watching his feed won’t see the rest of the action. Instead, he focuses in on Nygma, who seems to be planting and arming a device of his own on a mantelpiece figurine.

“Hey, no fair!” Jason whines, so heartfelt Bruce can hear his pained expression. Batman watches the Riddler-bug closely. Surprisingly, his scanners show it’s a harmless audio recording device. He then moves his gaze to Cobblepot, who has just started speaking. Unluckily , Ivy and Asphyxia are still having their fun near the bottom of his cam feed, but as long as it keeps Jason quiet while he’s listening in… Tonight won’t be fruitless.

Batman picks up most of the meeting’s actual context from surveying everyone else. Sionis and Oswald… well, all they care about is a constant stream of drug and blood money. Lying low has cost neither of them drastically, though they did commune for a while, just the two of them, about shipping and selling Special Forces weaponry and explosives. Not that this is particularly bad. It just means that both of them could be engaged in a rather ridiculously brutal civil war over their shares of the profit. Which would become even more brutal if one were to intercept these shipments… Batman will, when the time comes.

Crane, surprisingly mask-less and unarmed, turns his back on the two, and walks to the window. He seems almost embittered. He puts his gloved fingertips to the glass, and sighs audibly. He, like Harvey, experiences shifts in personality, though, unlike today’s Harvey Dent, they tend to be on the uncontrollable side. Sometimes, Crane just couldn’t put on the mask and be Scarecrow. He was a stuck record on timid Jonathan, who still feared the wrath of his late father like one would fear a curse - even without being injected with his own gas.

Batman doesn’t quite fear anyone in the room – or their actions. Not until he casts his focus to the Joker, as least. He’s teeming with rage. He looks like anger, and hatred… But what’s more peculiar is that he’s not doing anything. Not gunning down everyone in the room, or spinning and hooting his laughs. And now Batman can sense the fear – not his own, but Harley’s. Instead of cooing over him, or soothing him, as her norm, she’s stood by the door, cradling her rucksack as a child would a wounded puppy. Batman would bet her face was just as white under the make-up.

The Joker, instead of telling bad jokes, laughing or shooting everyone up, is pacing in the tiny metre of space he has, back and forth again and again. “Useless , useless, useless.” He repeats to her under his breath so Batman’s bug only just picks it up, and Harley shudders visibly, legs like a particularly wiry animal trying to stand.

“We’ve waited, and waited, and waited, and now what? No one has any ideas other than storming in to kill Wayne, and that’s so dull and unfunny that thinking about it makes all my ideas dry up even more than they already have!” Jokers hands drag down his face, smearing the face paint, tearing at his hair, breaking skin. “There’s nothing left now. Now even seeing these… these... groupies! It’s like they don’t even want to stop the Bat! How many more months do we have to wait before he takes us all down… for good?!” A he’s hissing now, spitting venom in his words like a pissed snake. Batman readies himself to pounce. The moment Joker tries anything, Batman will be ready. Jason’s breathing hitches.

“B-”

“J.” He quietens the boy.

Joker turns to Harley, and Batman can’t see the look in his eyes, wouldn’t want to even if he could. “We’ve waited so long for something that hasn’t happened. And now, Two Face is on a vacation – permanently - and Wayne’s got a new boy-” Joker turns away from Harley just long enough for Bruce to shake in the suit a little at the utter resentment on his face. “-just how long before he joins him?! Before he puts on the suit and takes my- my.” The Joker is shaking so much that the binocular feed looks more vibration than person. Yet still the madman remains quiet enough to not be noticed by anyone except Harley.

And Riddler. Who may or may not be surveying everyone, almost as intently as Batman is. Leverage maybe? Nygma slinks back against the wall, like it is maybe him that is hosting instead of Cobblepot. He looks exactly like he’s planning everyone’s demise. Like he’s only here for extra intel. While the rabble disputes, the outsider plots and learns. Nygma’s overbearing and clumsy in his deeds, but what he is not, is an idiot. He will wait for a time to strike. And because of tonight, he will know, for all the man’s destruction and ruthlessness, exactly how much Joker cares.

Harley puts her bag down and anxiously paces over to the Joker. She puts a hand on his waist tentatively. “I’m here, Puddin’”

The Joker looks forward, a rabid grin on his face. His body relaxes, back to its normal slump as if all of that before had been a momentary lapse. She looks delighted to affect him this way, until he rips her hand off him and turns to her again. “Whoever said anyone wanted you to be?” And Harley cowers once more, yet stays by his side, looking up at him through her lashes as he beams at the rest of the room, seemingly himself again.

Bane, in the armchair, seems completely careless, almost like he’s been drugged. He talks into a phone, a lazy grin on his face. “We’ll do whatever you want to,  _ mi amour _ . As soon as I can leave, I promise.” He smiles again at the reply. “It’s dreadfully boring. Tell me how you want to make love tonight.” He continues. An inherently childish urge inside Bruce wants to mock-gag, but he represses it easily. The Riddler has a similar response.

Jason coughs a dirty chuckle. And then shuts the hell up when Batman growls under his breath. “What Joker said earlier.” Jason pauses. “It was about me.” It isn’t a question.

“Yes.” Batman confirms.

“A new boy.” Jason says, and this time it’s clearer. Louder. As if Jason is the one Batman should be paying attention to instead of this meeting. It makes Bruce want to run the hell home and be the father to Jason that he wasn’t to Dick.

“Yes.” And Jason snorts a laugh, and it seems so overwhelming that Batman only just keeps focus on the scene in front of him.

“Well of course – you had fucking Robin.” Jason pauses again, chuckles some more before – “Wait.  _ Had _ Robin?!”

“J, please not here.” Bruce pleads with him, and it’s still in the Batman’s voice.

“But he’s not-”

“No, J. He’s not.”

“Phew. Okay.” And Jason just shuts up again, and watches on with Bruce.

Ivy and Asphixia are still playing exhibitionist and exhibitionist on the floor of the room. Ivy really doesn’t care about anything else – knows that either way with the Bruce Wayne issue, that he’ll prevent any forests and nature reserves being cut down for new construction, as long as she keeps out of crime’s way. It’s an unspoken agreement, but Batman would assume that Asphixia is playing a rather large part in it. And Asphixia… Hasn’t really been on the radar either.

One would assume that she’s just waiting to pounce on the next person that disagrees with her – to wrap her strong hands around their throat and just  _ squeeze  _ until they breathed their last puff of air, but maybe she’s sobered a bit too. There was talk on the street that she’d ran away pretty fast after the Joker had started hitting Harley. Looking at them now – Pam’s lips at her throat, flora and pollen in Asphixia’s hair – they look pure as cherubs can sprawled on floors of seedy squatters' dens.

If Cobblepot could get any more obvious with where he was looking, he’d be a neon sign pointing towards them.

-

Half an hour later, everything goes wrong. Batman is considering leaving early, as Jason sounds more needy and anxious every time he speaks, but those thoughts of truancy get cut short.

To begin, Bane leaves within ten minutes of being there, which makes Jason laugh even harder than him on the comms did. The hulking man adjusts himself in his pants after the call, and all but runs for the door after saying a curt goodbye to everyone there.

Then everything loses its focus. Joker gets volatile like he was before, loud enough to make Asphixia scare slightly. Ivy is still grooming her as she turns to look at the madman fear in those eyes. He’s pacing again and shaking, shaking hard enough to blur the cam feed binoculars. Harley sits down now, cradling the rucksack. Joker turns to her, says something unintelligible, before turning to Penguin, Black Mask, Riddler and Crane to address the rest of the room.

“It’s been months now, all you cowering menaces, and what are we doing about the Bat?!” He hisses at them, sauntering to centre-stage, choosing this moment to lean on the Penguins desk. “Stopping your business running smooth, seducing Dent into therapy, getting pumped up on whatever that big blue boytscout is selling and adopting  _ fucking kids!!”  _ The Joker pants from his outburst. The room is entirely silent. Then, something most unexpected happens.

Oswald snorts a laugh.

Jason sniggers. And then they both immediately stop. Dead silence. No words, no noise. Even Ivy’s spawn freeze mid-braid. Joker is practically salivating, foaming at the mouth in a rage. But he’s… Frozen. No one even cares. Harley is even stood still in a moment of panic.

“Suppose we ‘ent gotta worry then, if only the crazies like you are goin’ outta fashion.” Oswald chortles, coughs, and puffs on his cigar, stumpy legs kicking a foot off the ground while he’s sat at the desk. Bruce makes a mental note not to zoom in for Jason’s amusement. And then wonders again why the fuck he even had that thought, because something is very very wrong here and he’s making  _ jokes.  _ The Joker, smile painted on his face, visibly deflates. His face even looks depressing now, like the cut corners of his cheeks are even somewhat angled downwards, like a sad parody of a clown.

“I’m Gotham’s namesake, you aged, pompous bird. Your crime career has been as flightless as your namesake…” The smile returns, the Joker’s voice deepening for emphasis. He’s got a malicious look in his eye, and it’s then that Batman realises – the Joker knows he’s here. This is all a show for him. The anger, the faked sadness, and the eventual… - Shit. He quickly scans the Joker for weapons and explosives. Finds nothing but a single dosage of poison gas and a rather ugly butchers knife in his boot. “But by all means, Penguin, waddle into the fist of a twelve year old and we’ll see who time outsmarts.”

Oswald huffs and may have even blushed, which brings Bruce to consider a fond memory of Dick handing Penguin’s ass to him. It lasts a second before the fear kicks back in.

“B?”Jason hums, voice gaining a pitch.

“Yes.” Batman replies, stony.

Inside, Asphyxia is clearing the tension in the room by announcing her and Ivy’s departure. The two exchange awkward pleasantries inside before making a quick exit. Ivy is charming, and cordial as always, but the duo are resented maybe even more so than Bane for their early departure. He doesn’t catch much of it but notes the hostility between the Joker and Asphyxia, and how they barely interact. Bruce guesses that this must seem a like a spiteful and unfounded betrayal to the Joker, due to them being so close in the past.

“I get that he hates you and all, you’re like his nemesis, right? And he must’ve made all these cool plans for you to die in, but woosh! Bam! You outwitted him again, right? Foiled his plans! So he really must-”

“Get to the point, J”

Jason sighs and his brewing excitement, lined with a tinge of hero-worship, wanes.

“Why did he hate Robin so much? And why would he hate it when I-”

“If, J.”

“Yeah, sorry, if I took up the mant-”

Bruce rolls his eyes and huffs a small sound of defeat. The boy will never understand, but maybe he needs an answer he doesn’t to discourage him from asking more questions.

“Jealousy.”

Bruce can hear the confusion even if it isn’t audible. The silence, among the sounds of the door closing on Ivy’s departure, speaks clearly for itself. Jason cracks a laugh.

“It’s not like I’m your wife, B. And we’re not all friendship groups in middle school, no matter how much I  _ totally _ would’ve been your friend in middle school.”

“I’m not explaining it beyond this, J. Something that takes up my time when I’m not on patrol doesn’t phase him. But as soon as something other than him began using  _ Batman’s _ time, it set him on edge. As soon as he realised, through actually trying to keep tabs on me as Bruce, that I’d adopted Robin, I think he snapped, more so than he had done before. Di- Robin was injured, severely, more times than he should have been.”

There’s a noise on the comms, something like understanding, as Jason quietens down for long enough to process the information. A swift silence, from both the bug and the comms, is then followed up by a snort-laugh, again, from Jason.

“He’s acting like a possessive boyfriend, B. Sure you didn’t lead him on in any way-”

“J.”

“I swear I’m only joking, I don’t want to insinuate that-”

“J.”

“Not that there’s anything wrong with it, just thought it might be funny and-” There’s a pause for breath and, Bruce hopelessly pleads that the gasp that follows does not mean understanding. The silence is awkward for a while, but Bruce hangs onto it with bated breath.

“ _ Oh _ .”

Bruce wishes he adopted stupid kids instead. He doesn’t have time to explain to Jason or even hear his criticism before the hotel blows up. The explosion is a gratuitous mess of rubble and noise that deafens Batman temporarily.

Batman dodges a sparking, battered letter ‘R’ hurling towards him, flug from the building as if it were an angry vengeful God. He grapples to a nearby gargoyle reflexively, further dodging flung rubble with ease.

In his mind's eye, Harley Quinn’s oversized backpack is a faint memory of baby blues and pinks, bloodstains and bullet holes. Bruce feels the weight of his own incompetence as a protector, and slumps, visor on the cowl picking up nothing but concrete dust. He wishes that he could dive into the ground with the building, and bury himself there until the weight of this failure no longer feels heavy.


End file.
